I Love You Too
by Ztilo
Summary: Starts out after Big Jerry's funeral during the flashbacks in 2x11. A look into the relationship between father and son, and how Olivia comes to learn more about it. I always felt like that could have been explored a bit more and wrote my little version of things. There is a WARNING inside, so please read it carefully. Please Read and review!


Disclaimer: I don't own Scandal, this is only for fun. I wish I did, etc.

**Note: **I do have to add a** WARNING **in this chapter. There is some mention of emotional abuse and one incident of childhood physical abuse. NOTHING sexual. It is not that kind of story. The incident is essentially the core of the story, though it is not itself what the story is about. In the end you'll realize it's about more than that. This story is about the relationship between Fitz and his father, but also about the relationship between Fitz and Olivia. If you don't think you can read stories with that warning, step away NOW.

Otherwise please continue and remember this story takes place in the flashback scenes from 2x11 after the funeral. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

She held him tight against her chest, feeling his cries rack his body as his tears wet her shirt. She wanted to pull him closer, but that was as far as they could go. With one hand she ran circles over his back, while with the other she gently caressed his head, feeling the curls pass through her fingers.

He was hurting. _Really_ hurting. He'd lost his father, his namesake, the only man he'd ever called dad. And though they'd never had the best relationship, he still felt it. It was still pain. A pain he'd been trying to hold back, trying to pretend it wasn't there, trying to ignore. But it'd all just poured out. Right in front of her, right before her very eyes.

_S_he wasn't surprised or taken aback by his reaction. She saw it coming, long ago she saw it coming. She knew what it was and where it came from.

She knew it was much more than just his passing, than just the past few days.

She knew.

He'd told her.

She didn't know how many other people knew, she didn't think it was many, but _she_ knew.

And she hurt too. For him, for them. For the man he was and the one he was trying to be. For the man he kept running away from and the one he kept falling back into.

She recalled it now, that night not too long ago. Just like it was yesterday, she'd never forget it.

* * *

_A few months prior_

She was lying in a guest room at the Santa Barbara ranch. It was late at night, and she couldn't sleep. It wasn't rare. In moments like this, in the middle of a campaign, when her focus was prepped for only one thing, it was hard to relax, to feel settled.

Especially now sleeping alone in this room in such a big house, _his _house. But she couldn't share the moment with him. Not tonight, not for a few nights probably.

She tossed in the bed and tried to get a little more comfortable. She lied on her side and stared at the wall across from her, wondering what was on the other side.

Everyone was at the house, well everyone except his wife, Mellie. She had taken the opportunity of being back home to do some campaigning of her own, in the state where she was most popular. She was on her way to the other side of the state by now, blissfully unaware of what was to happen.

She closed her eyes for a bit and tried to clear her mind, tired of all the thoughts that still kept her awake.

Her head nestled deeper into the soft pillow. She began to fall into a light slumber, happy for the respite – when she heard it.

Her eyes popped open and made contact once again with the wall, a small night light near the door illuminating it just enough that she could make out the pale color.

She heard it again. It was a voice. She squinted her eyes in the faint belief that if she could see the wall better, she could hear what was on the other side of the wall better too.

And there it was again. It was definitely a voice. His voice.

_What was he saying? Was he talking to somebody?_

Curiosity got the best of her and she pulled back the covers to stand and get a little closer. As she stepped forward, she heard the noises one more time. This time louder, clearer.

It didn't stop, it was growing. It was the same thing over and over.

She'd never heard anything like this before, what should she do? He was having a nightmare. She could hear him clearly now; he sounded anguished. She hadn't even reach the wall, but it was loud enough that she didn't have to try listening for it anymore.

_What if someone else heard too? _Her room was closest to his,_ but what if the words got louder? What if they turned to screams?_

She should wake him, she thought. She wanted to, no needed to wake him.

She wanted the nightmare to go away, for him, for her. Because whatever was tormenting him now, it was tormenting her too. She couldn't bare it, couldn't stand to hear those sounds.

She grabbed her robe off the bed and stepped towards the door. Gently she grabbed the handle and turned, opening it slowly. She glanced outside, left and right, to make sure no one else had in fact heard and gotten the same idea. Seeing that the hall was clear she tip toed quietly the short distance to his door.

She took a breath before reaching for the handle. She pressed her ear to the door, a one last chance to see if he had stopped on his own. He hadn't. She turned the handle slowly and pushed, then peaked inside. She could make out his body on top of the bed, tossing and turning back and forth, the sheets tangled around his legs.

She stepped inside and gently closed the door behind her.

"Fitz" she whispered as she stepped closer, it didn't wake him.

She reached the foot of the bed and took in his demeanor. He was sweating and his eyes were clenched shut. His hair was sticking to his forehead, as was his shirt to his body.

"Fitz" She called out again, louder this time, but still got nothing.

She stepped around the bed and to his side.

"Fitz!" She yelled in a whispered tone. Nothing. She didn't know how to wake him, but now she desperately wanted to.

One more time she tried.

This time she reached out and shook his arm as she called out, "Fitz!"

With sudden alarm his eyes snapped open and he jumped up, a soft yell escaping him. He pulled his arm away, and almost hit her in the process, but she stepped back and he hit the night table next to him instead.

"Olivia?!" He whispered loudly once his eyes focused.

"Sshhh, I'm sorry", she stated and looked down at him clutching his injured hand to his chest. "I'm sorry."

"What are you doing here?" He asked as he fervently rubbed his hand, confusion in his eyes at seeing her in his room. _His_ room, his real room and not just some room rented out to his campaign's account. She knew she shouldn't be here, not tonight.

"I-I heard you from my room next door." She said as she moved around the bed and escaped into the bathroom.

"_What?_" He asked watching her. She came back out a minute later with a towel in one hand and one of his shirts in the other.

"Here" she held them out to him and he simply looked up at her, silently questioning her motives.

"You're soaked." And for the first time, he noticed it. Realization hit his face and he looked down at himself to find that he was in fact, soaked.

"Thanks." He mumbled as he took the items from her. Before he did anything he watched again as she left his side and he took the moment to change and clean up.

By the time he was done she was back at his side with a glass of water and a worried look on her face.

"Drink this." She simply stated as she shoved the cup at him.

He took it without hesitation. She watched him drink the water and took a seat next to him on the edge of the bed.

Once he was done she took the glass from him and set it down on the night table, satisfied that he was at least partly better.

"I heard you from my room. You were having a nightmare. I heard you from my room having a nightmare and I...I didn't like hearing it."

"_Olivia,_ I'm a war veteran, I've had nightmares before. I'll probably have them again. You shouldn't worry." His voice gruff, but it gave him away. She knew it wasn't a war nightmare.

Still, she looked away from him, knowing that he was right. It hurt her that he was right, that he'd lived through such things, that he had to relive them again even when those memories were miles away. Despite that she wouldn't give in.

"It didn't sound like that type of nightmare." She said softly, still not meeting his gaze.

"Olivia..."

She snapped back, fear and worry evident in her eyes. "You were screaming! Kept saying the same thing over and over. 'Stop, stop, don't hit me, stop' Over and over. There was desperation in your voice Fitz. It...it scared me."

This time he was the one to look away. His jaw clenched and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. She looked down and saw his left hand lightly shaking. She put her hand over it to try to calm him down. To reassure him that he could trust her. That no matter what had happened or what was said, she was there with him.

"Fitz?" She stared at his face and urged him to turn back to her. She could tell he wasn't ready. He was shaking his head wordlessly telling her not to go on.

She squeezed his hand and though she thought she'd pushed too much and he'd pull away, he surprised her and instead squeezed hers right back.

"I'm so-" he cut her off.

"I was the only boy." He said and turned back to lock eyes with her.

"What?"

"I was the only boy, well still am technically. Two girls and one boy, I was the youngest in my family..." She nodded her head and urged him to continue, letting him know she understood what he was doing.

He looked down again and cautiously he began his story.

"It put a lot of pressure on me. Back then things weren't as they are now, you know that." He glanced up and she nodded. She did know, she'd been fighting it all her life. "My sisters didn't have the same responsibilities as I did, things weren't as expected of them._ I_ was the heir, the one who had to continue my father's legacy. The _third_.

I hated it, I didn't want it. I was never like my father. The only thing we shared was blood and name. Everything else was relative. Where he was tough, I was sensitive. Where he was crude, I was gentle. And where he was big, I was small. A late bloomer, you know. It really wasn't until my mid teens that I shot up. Before that I was a scrawny, clumsy little kid."

She giggled imagining him so small and he paused, smiling at the reaction he'd gotten out of her before he continued.

"He hated that. I was too much like my mom. 'Butch up' he'd say, always pushing me to do things I was afraid of, even when my older sisters didn't want to do them either. 'Don't be such a sissy boy' 'grow some balls kid' 'that's not how a Grant does it'. It was always something, _always _something. I steered away from him, but he always seemed to find me. I was his only son and he needed to make sure I turned out just as he wanted.

I remember he took me to work with him once, when he was a congressman. We lived in Virginia for a while but we rarely ever went into DC, only he did. I was happy and scared at the same time. Despite it all I still looked up to him, admired him. He had an important job and he was going to tell me all about it.

It started out great, but it quickly turned bad. He showed me around for a bit, showed me off really, and then I saw waited outside his office for hours. He had meeting after meeting. Men and women came in and out and there I sat, bored, lonely, forgotten. I decided that day that I never wanted to have that job, that whatever he did I wanted no part of it.

Funny how things change."

He stopped for a moment and she saw his attention leave the room. He stared into nothing, but she knew where he was. He was thinking about his own job, his own kids. Wondering if he'd ever done the same to them, if he ever would.

She waved a hand in front of him to take him out of his trance and turned back to look at her.

"You're a much better father than that, Fitz. Don't ever believe any different."

He locked eyes with her and smiled. "Thanks," he whispered. He took the glass from the nightstand and took another sip before he continued the story.

"When I was about 10 or 11 we moved out of Virginia and came back to Santa Barbara. It was supposed to be temporary while he campaigned for governor. What that meant for me was a new school and new friends. I was scared at first, but I quickly adapted. Kids were different here. Back in Virginia everyone I knew was just like me. Everyone's parents were in politics, all my classmates were some congressman or senator's kid. Here it seemed the kids were 'normal'. More adventurous, more fun. Dad had always warned us that we were to always be on our very best behavior, that whatever we did was a reflection on him, but that was Virginia and this was California. Things were different and kids were normal, and I forgot it all way too quick."

He took a deep breath and got ready for the next part.

"It was a Friday night, about a year after the move, I remember that distinctly. Dad was out of town and if he was going to come back it wouldn't be until the weekend. I was staying the night at a friend's house - Joey. He was my best friend then, so different from anyone I'd ever met before. He was carefree and I wanted to be just like him. He was a year and a grade older and I felt honored to be his friend.

We were supposed stay at his house, but it was late and his parents had already gone to bed, so naturally he got an idea. He told me a story about a man who supposedly lived in a shed within the forest behind his house. He said the man had died alone years ago but people were too afraid to do anything with the shed because they claimed it was haunted.

I thought he was crazy. I didn't believe him, though mostly I knew what he wanted and I thought that if I let him know I thought he was full of crap then he wouldn't go ahead with it. It didn't work. He convinced me to sneak out with him and search for the shed. I didn't want to. I remember my heart beating practically out of my chest from fear. I knew I'd get in trouble if we were caught sneaking out, but most of all I _did_ believe him and I wanted no part of it.

Either way on out we went. He led the way and I followed close behind. We took flashlights from his day's tool box and made our way outside through the back door going completely unnoticed. It was fun at first, for a while I thought maybe I'd been mistaken. That maybe we'd just have a nice adventure and be back home before his parents woke up and caught us."

"But you were wrong."

He shook his head.

"I was incredibly wrong. We went into the forest, flashlights in hand, and just walked in straight, thinking it would be easy to find the shed that way. After about 10 minutes we didn't find anything so we went in a different direction. We just kept walking and walking, and probably started walking in circles at some point because before we knew it we couldn't figure out our north from south and we had no idea how to get out. We were so deep we couldn't see the end of the forest from any direction. We'd walk and walk in one direction or another and still found nothing. Soon enough the sun began to come out and we entered full fledge panic mode. The trees were so tall and so thick we couldn't tell which way the sun was rising from. I was sweaty, thirsty, and tired, and I was using half my strength just to keep myself from losing it in front of him. It was one of the worst experiences of my life and it didn't get any better."

He paused again and looked up, deep into her eyes, with a single glance asking her if she was ready. She understood that this was what they were leading too, what his nightmare was about. She knew it'd be hard for him, for both of them, but they'd come this far and she wouldn't give up now. She wouldn't let him.

"Go on, Fitz."

He nodded and began again.

"It was hours before we got out of there. It was almost sun down again before they found us. It turned out we weren't that far from the edge when they did. His parents had panicked when they didn't find us the next morning and called the police. We were tracked down by scent sniffing dogs, there was a full search party looking for us. Dozens of people. I was a congressman and soon to be governor's son and they couldn't hesitate a second not looking for me. It became a story. I wasn't missing long enough for it to take off nationally, and back then there wasn't the 24 hour news cycle we have now, but locally it was everywhere.

When I got home my dad was furious. He hadn't been there when they'd found me, but when we got back home he was waiting for me. I'd never seen him so angry. My mom had been so caring, so worried. She'd hugged me tight and kissed me and told me she was disappointed, but she had a smile on her face which told me she was happy to see me, and I was exuberant to see her again. I got none of that from him.

As soon as I saw him I ran to my room. He called after me 'Fitzgerald! Come back here, Fitzgerald!' but for once I didn't listen. I just ran and ran as fast as my legs would let me and hid under my bed. I knew what was coming.

My dad was never a violent man per se, he never touched my mother or sisters, but he with me he believed firmly in what he called 'strict punishment'. It usually wasn't anything that bad though, only a pat on the rear or a pull of the collar, but I was never one to act out too much anyway so it didn't happen very often.

This time, I remember it all with vivid detail. I was hiding under my bed looking at the door. My whole body was shaking and tears streamed down my face. I was almost just as scared as I'd been in that forest, I practically wished I was back there. Most of all I wished I'd never listened to Joey in the first place.

I could hear the stomps of his feet as he came up the stairs, yelling as he did. He kept saying what a big mistake I'd made, how stupid I was, how could I not think, how did I not realize how it made him look. I'd never before heard him be so mad. Finally he reached my door and pushed it in, breaking the lock completely.

He spotted me and told me to get out instantly, but I refused. I just kept saying 'I'm sorry I'm sorry, please I'm sorry' until he reached under the bed dragged me out. He stood me up, looked me in the eyes and shook me.

'Do you have any idea what you've done? ANY? Do you have any idea what this could've cost me?!' He yelled in my face and I could feel his hot breath on me the whole time.

I just shook my head and said I'm sorry, that I didn't mean it. I kept apologizing and begging for forgiveness. My nose was filled with snot and it poured down my face, making what I was saying almost incomprehensible.

'Stop crying you little sissy boy!' He said and he then slapped me right across the face. I was shocked, he'd never hit me like that before. Not in the face, never that viciously. He stopped and for a split second he seemed to be almost as shocked as I was, but just as quickly that left him and his face turned red. All the anger built up inside of him.

'I'll give you something to cry about' he said and I watched paralyzed as he removed his belt. He folded it it up and just began hitting me. Over and over. On my back, my butt, my legs. Over and over. I thought it would never stop. I just kept crying and screaming 'stop, stop, please don't hit me, stop'. I tried to get away but he grabbed me with his other hand and held me in place. I'd never in my life had something like that happen to me. After a while it didn't even seem like he was yelling about me, he started yelling about this and that, things which weren't even at all my fault. It was like he was in a daze and he was taking all his frustrations out on me.

It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like hours. It didn't end until my mom finally came into my room and held his hand back mid air. The belt ended up hitting her on the arm and I think that's when he finally realized what he was doing. He stopped abruptly and let me go. He looked at my mother and found the same anger he was taking out on me being reflected back at him, I saw it too. He took one last glance in my direction, dropped the belt and walked out of the room. I didn't see him again for weeks.

After that my mom took care of me. She stayed with me that night and cured some of the welts that had started bleeding, I still have those scars. Barely visible now, but there nonetheless."

He stopped again and she caught him fiddling with his shirt. She realized what he was doing. She'd seem them before. She'd never asked about them, assuming they were from battle or sports injuries, and maybe some were, but she understood now what they were most likely from. She didn't think they made him self-conscious, he'd never said anything before. Still she knew they were an ugly reminder to have.

She grabbed the hand playing with his shirt and made him look back at her.

"Please continue, Fitz." She knew he wasn't done. He complied and started again.

"I don't think I left my room for days. I definitely didn't go back to school on Monday. Joey and I were never good friends again. He faulted me for it making the news and ruining his own reputation, and frankly I resented him for convincing me to go in the first place. We never did find that shed.

Soon after my parents took me out of that school and sent me to boarding school. Most kids beg their parents not to make them go, but I never said a word. I was happy to go, to get out of the house and away from my father. In boarding school I was happy, I was free. I didn't have anyone there constantly looking over my shoulder, telling me what to do or how to act. I could do whatever I wanted as long as it was reasonable, I didn't dare get in trouble again."

He laughed, "I'll never forget the look on my father's face when I finished school and went back home. I'd left a boy, but I came back a man. I wasn't looking up at him anymore; we were almost eye to eye. He simply held out his hand to shake mine and I took it. He said 'good to have you back son" then moved on. That was it, but that was enough. There was no ridicule in his words or tone. It made me feel happy, like he was proud of me, but at the same time it made me sick because I didn't want to yearn for his pride. I was still angry with him, all the teen angst I felt at the time; it was all directed at him. And yet there I was still looking for his approval.

I went to college, law school, the Navy. I lived my own life, made someone of myself, yet it seemed even subconsciously he still held a shadow over me; that I still followed. I became the man he always wanted me to be, maybe now more than ever and yet I've still never felt like I've truly succeeded. Not until I hear him say those words."

"Oh God Fitz. I'm so sorry. You, you have to tell him. You have to talk to him." Her eyes pleaded with him, pushing him to oblige.

"No, I can't. It's too late now. It doesn't matter anymore." He said it without even thinking, like he'd thought about it a million times before and that's the only conclusion he ever found. Like it was his truth.

"Of course it matters! He should know how he's made you feel, he should hear what you have to tell him."

He shook his head, refusing to relent.

"No. No, Olivia. That's all in the past. I don't care anymore and he won't care either. If anything it'll just make things worse, it'll justify everything he's ever thought of me."

"Your father loves you Fitz, I'm sure he'd care."

"He doesn't-he's never said it. I'm sure he does, but...he's never said it. He won't care."

They became silent then. She took in what he said, processing the whole story. Meanwhile he closed his eyes, and tried to push back every emotion that night had brought forward. They stayed that way for a while, letting the silence speak for them.

Finally she broke it.

"I love you." She simply stated. It was her first time saying it to him. She'd thought about it, knew she meant it and said it. She didn't need for him to say it back because she knew it wouldn't change the truth. But also because she knew that's what he needed to hear, that with so many people who only wanted him for his power, or money, or potential, that there was still one person there who loved him. Who didn't care for any of those things, that while he was at his lowest, while he'd spilled out his some of his darkest secrets, she loved him.

"Olivia, I-"

She held up her hand and stopped him before he could continue.

"You don't have to say it."

He closed his eyes for a moment and then she didn't think he would. But that moment slipped by and he opened his eyes again to stare right back at her.

"I love you too."

* * *

_Present_

After that they'd laid in bed together, her against his chest and him with his arm wrapped around her. She couldn't get enough of his warmth and he didn't let go of her the whole time. They didn't say anything more that night, didn't _do_ anything more. They just simply laid in bed together, satisfied to feel the other's embrace. After a while he fell asleep, but didn't have any more nightmares that night. Hadn't had any since then. She too fell asleep but woke up early and snuck back to her own room. They never spoke about that night again, about what he'd told her.

Now here they were, just hours after his father's funeral. Just hours after the man who for so long tormented him and caused him so much pain was laid to rest, never to be seen again.

And he was crying once more. Almost like he had that night, as if he were that boy once again. A lifetime of memories passing through him. Pain for all the bad moments they'd had and pain for the closure he'd never get. For the loss of the man from whom he'd only ever wanted to hear the words 'I'm proud of you' from, but that he now never would.

His father wouldn't be there come election day and he wouldn't be there to see his son win the presidency, which she knew he would. He wouldn't be there for his first inauguration, and maybe even his second. He wouldn't get to see the legacy his son was building for himself. Most of all he wouldn't get to see his son continue to be the father he himself never was.

After what felt like hours she felt him calm, his body ceasing its shaking, but he didn't let go and she didn't either. She squeezed him tighter and he squeezed back, neither willing unwrap themselves from the other, both completely comfortable where they were.

She rested her chin on his head and they stayed like that for a long minute, frozen in time. She felt like she could stay that way forever, she wished that they could stay that way forever. Just them two and nobody else.

She felt his hands begin to loosen and she kissed the top of his head to stop him, loving the feel of his soft curls against her face. He did and she held herself there, resting against him.

"I love you." She said, barely above a whisper, not knowing if he really heard her.

But he did and he replied back.

"I love you too."

* * *

**What did you think? Let me know, please review :)**


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